Thursday, March 08, 2007
No Whining

A few years ago my husband received a campaign-type button with a diagonal red line drawn through the word “WHINING”. As the father of four children, he thought it was an appropriate pin to wear, and with delight, would wordlessly, yet blatantly, put it on when he felt the children’s attitudes were questionable. One son in particular detested the appearance of that pin on his dad’s shirt.
Similarly, a Kansas City pastor said he got a bright idea for his church while he was in the shower. He asked his congregation to wear purple rubber bracelets as part of a campaign to eliminate complaints, criticism, gossip, and sarcasm. Those who wear the bracelet pledge to stop complaining for 21 days. When I initially heard the story, I thought it was an interesting proposal. Certainly the world would be a better place if all that negativity was neutralized.
I offhandedly wondered if I could adhere to a 3-week challenge of no complaints. “I don’t think it would be so hard to do,” I reasoned. “Basically, I’m fairly cheerful and positive anyway.”
But then I started to think of all the things about which I quite commonly whine. The neighbors’ dogs. The cold weather in the winter. The people who stand me up for appointments at work. The potholes in the neighborhood streets. My opponent’s illegal pickleball serve. The sunspots that cause static in the television picture when I’m trying to watch my favorite reality show. A slow computer or internet connection. Gray hairs, old eyes, creaky knees, and cellulite. The neighbors’ dogs.
I realized it feels quite comfortable to complain about these minor things. In fact, it feels good to do just a little venting. Maybe that’s why my son didn’t like to see his dad’s “No Whining” pin. It criticized one of his strategies for dealing with childhood frustrations.
Guess I won’t be slipping on a purple “Complaint Free” bracelet any time soon, nor receiving inspirational, world-changing ideas in the shower. In fact, if you’ve got a minute, let me tell you how annoyed I get with the miserable and uncomfortable showers I’m forced to take if I follow my teenage son’s interminably long showers after he’s all but drained the water heater, leaving his poor mother to shiver and shake under a nearly frigid spray…
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